


Outlaws Til The End

by Amateur_Sketch



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angels of Death, Bikers, Blood and Torture, Dogs, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Motorcycle clubs, Motorcycles, Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Domestic Violence, Past Drug Use, Sex, the lost mc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amateur_Sketch/pseuds/Amateur_Sketch
Summary: When a ghost comes back into Terry Thorpe's life warning him of a ruthless new motorcycle club, he'll have to become the leader he wasn't meant to be. As he builds a new chapter of The Lost, he'll also have to deal with Trevor and a young woman torn between loyalty and love.When things begin to spiral out of his control, he'll begin to wonder if The Lost were truly meant to survive or will they crumble beneath The Devil's Mark?





	1. The Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I'm jumping the gun with this story, but it wouldn't leave my head and I thought I'd upload the first chapter for you guys who follow my other stories. There are slight spoilers to Shadows of the Night, but if you played GTA 5, you know what happens to Johnny. D:
> 
> So, I know Terry is a strange choice for a protagonist, but I liked his character in TLaD and refused to kill him and Clay when playing as Trevor. Clay actually did die anyway by wrecking his bike during the chase though. XD

**2013**

_The San Andreas sun burned brightly over the desert terrain as a faded red truck stirred up dust on the back roads of Blaine County. Ahead of it, were two members of the Lost MC fleeing from said truck. Gunfire crackled through the air like thunder from both sides. The dust and dirt made it hard to get a good shot and it didn't help that there were sharp corners they had to take._

_Terry Thorpe's heart slammed in his chest as he fled from the madman known as Trevor Philips. Trevor's words were still ringing in his ears. He didn't want to believe what he'd heard. Johnny can't be dead. This was all bullshit! They would make it back to Stab City and Johnny would be waiting for them. They would take out Trevor and those two idiots that hung around him._

_More gunfire erupted behind them. Terry's eyes flickered briefly to Clay who also shared the same worried and frightened expression as he did._

_The bridge was in sight. They were almost there._

Come on, just a bit further!  _Terry thought._

_Beside him Clay_ _slumped over_ _, his bike wobbled, and his body dropped to the road while his bike skidded off into the grass. Terry looked away before he could witness Trevor's truck run over Clay._ _A second later Terry felt a white hot pain of a bullet tear through his right shoulder. The force was enough for him to lose balance on his own bike. Time seemed to slow down around him as the tires lost their grip on the dirt and Terry went sailing off his bike._

_He hit the road hard, his Wolfsbane landing somewhere in the ditch. His head slammed against the dirt, his left_ _wrist_ _bent at an awkward angle, and he was pretty sure his ribs and right leg were broken. Trevor's tires just barely missed him_ _as he sped past the broken and battered biker._ _Terry struggled to breathe as the dust waft around him. He turned his head to the right and caught sight of Clay's mangled and twisted body twenty feet away._ _The bile rose in his throat at the bloody tire marks that started at Clay and ended not too far from the bridge._

_Despite the pain, Terry rolled onto his stomach and crawled toward his brother. Everything in him hurt like hell, but he pushed past the pain._ _Once he finally reached Clay, Terry felt sick at the display before him. The older biker's jaw was slacked and broke w_ _ith blood_ _trickling out of it. His dark brown eyes were dull and lifeless, looking up at a sky they couldn't see anymore, and his chest was crushed in from the weight of the truck running_ _him over._

_H_ _e always saw Clay as sort of a father figure. When Terry was a young punk trying to prove himself to the_ _Lost_ _, it was Clay who took him under his wing. It was Clay who looked out for him whenever he screwed up in the early days and Clay was the one who taught Terry how to properly shoot a gun. Now his mentor and best friend was gone._

_Terry lost strength and collapsed on the road. He painfully rolled onto his back again and looked up at the clear blue sky. Seconds later, he could hear gunfire from Stab City. As he was losing consciousness, he thought about his life and wondered if it was all worth it in the end._

" _Rest in peace, brothers. You are lost, but not forgotten," he whispered._

_He closed his eyes and allowed death's cold embrace._

* * *

**Five Years Later…**

The phone came to life at nine am and vibrated across the nightstand, chiming and buzzing until its owner awakened from his slumber. A German Shepard came trotting into the room at the sound of the alarm. He nuzzled and licked his human's face while thumping his tail against the dresser. He panted, blowing hot, disgusting breath towards his human. The man grimaced and buried his face under the blankets.

The dog barked and growled, demanding the man get out of bed. The man rolled over, trying to ignore his canine companion, but the dog refused to be dismissed and jump onto the bed. He continued to lick the man's face and barked when the man hid under the covers. The dog leapt off the bed, clamped his teeth down on the blanket, and yanked it off.

Finally, Terry Thorpe sat up in the bed and glared at the canine. His dog looked up at him with happy, soulful brown eyes and barked again.

"Alright,  _alright!_  I'm awake, Dogmeat." He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and checked the time. "No wonder you're having a meltdown."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched, and yawned. Grabbing a pair of jeans off the floor, he put them on and threw on a black shirt along with his old Lost MC vest. The patch that once read  _SGT-at-Arms_  was replaced with  _Nomad_.

He limped into the living-room and opened the sliding glass door, letting the German Shepard run outside. He didn't have a fenced-in yard, but Dogmeat was smart enough to not run very far. He lived out in the middle of nowhere anyway; he didn't have to worry about neighbors bitching about his dog off the leash.

After shutting the door behind Dogmeat, he made his way into the kitchen and checked the calendar. Today marked the five year anniversary he was clean and sober.  _Whoopee-fucking-do…_ Terry thought apathetically. There were days when he didn't know why he bothered, but then he'd see Dogmeat and realize that it was worth it. The dog would not have cared either way, but it would be hard to afford dog food if he blew all his money on crystal.

He thought about Johnny and all the brothers he lost in that moment. Ice really fucked them all over. He still couldn't remember how he got addicted in the first place, but he figured it didn't matter anymore. They were supposed to rebuild the Lost for the better and they had until Trevor slowly made things worse for them. Now the Lost wasn't anything anymore. The only chapters left were Los Santos and Broker. Last he heard from an old friend, the Broker chapter was falling apart. Ten years ago, nobody fucked with the Lost, now all that was left were two chapters and a handful of Nomads.

The past was in the past and all other good shit, right? No point in dwelling on things that were out of your control or maybe they were in his control and he just never realized it.

_Get over it. We fucked up and paid for it. No point in cryin' about it now._

He placed a cup of instant ramen in the microwave and set it for three minutes. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but whatever, it would do for now. He poured kibble into Dogmeat's bowl and set it by the dishwasher that was never used. The German Shepard was let in and greedily ate his meal.

Checking the time on his phone, he remembered he was to meet up with a buyer around noon near Los Santos. Even though he was no longer a Sergeant-at-Arms, he still dealt in the illegal weapons trade. He had guns hidden all over his house, too. An M-16 under the couch cushions, a shotgun between the mattresses of his bed, a pistol in the bathroom. Pretty much every location in his house had a gun, but his cellar was where he kept all of his merchandise for sale. When he left the house, his van was loaded down, but the authorities in the area never seemed to care much. One of the few perks of living in a rural area like Cedar Creek, San Andreas.

Even with his reputation as a dangerous, illegal arms dealer, most folks in town were friendly towards him. How they really felt about him, he wasn't sure. Maybe they were only nice to him because they thought he would kill them or maybe they really did like him. He didn't really give a shit. As long as there were crazed rednecks and patriots willing to buy weapons off of him, he was here to stay. Besides, less government influence here put his mind at ease.

After loading his van with the arsenal those guys would need, he was ready to leave. When he stepped out of the garage, he left a bowl of food and water for Dogmeat on the back porch steps. Most dogs couldn't be trusted to be left alone outside, but Dogmeat was no ordinary canine. He gave the dog a pat on the head before walking back to the van.

He slid behind the wheel of the Slamvan he'd owned since his days in Alderney. It took few turns of the key, but the old vehicle finally started. Before he could he put the van in drive, however, a figure wearing a dark gray hoodie slowly rose from behind the driver's seat and pressed a Desert Eagle against Terry's temple.

"Shit," Terry grumbled.

"Show me your hands," the stranger ordered.

He complied and raised his hands. He had to think of something quick or he was fucked.

"You're Terrence Thorpe, right?" the stranger asked.

Terry's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror and narrowed. "Who the fuck is askin'?"

"Do you know who I am?"

"No, I fuckin' don't!"

The stranger chuckled at Terry's answer.

_Who the fuck does this asshole think he is?_

"It's been a long time, brother."

"Who are you? And don't call  _me_  brother." Terry growled.

With one hand, the stranger slowly pulled down his hood, revealing his face. Terry's eyes widened at the sight of a man he believed to be long dead. The man withdrew his gun and waited for Terry to say something.

After a wave of shock passed over him, Terry, sputtered, "Jim, you… you… c-can't be alive! You... you're dead!"

"Yeah, well, I got a lot of explainin' to do, I guess," Jim replied.

"You're goddamn right! So start talkin'."

"Can I at least come in? You never know, they might be recording this conversation. I bet your house is spy-proof." Jim gave a snicker. Like old times, he teased Terry about his paranoia of the government. Terry, on the other hand, did not find the joke to be funny.

After a few moments of debating it over in his head, Terry sighed and agreed to let his old friend in.

As they walked back to the house, Terry's mind and heart were whirling with a mix of emotions that he couldn't grasp at. He wanted to hug Jim and at the same time, punch the asshole for making him believe he was dead for all these years.

Or maybe he was dreaming because none of this shit was real, right?

Fuck, he didn't know anymore.


	2. The Lost Ain't Heroes

"I guess I deserved that," Jim said while rubbing the side of his face.

Terry towered over the older man, fists clenched and seething with anger while Jim picked himself up off the dirty linoleum floor. The moment the two entered the house, Terry gave in to his anger and punched Jim square in the jaw. For a split-second, he thought he broke it, but Jim appeared to be okay.

"After all this fuckin' time you were alive!" Terry said.

Jim leaned against the kitchen counter, one arm resting atop of it and the other at his side. "It was complicated, T. I have a family to think about."

"Johnny took your death the hardest! He mourned you, hell, we all did, but Johnny, man, he wasn't the same after you died!"

"I know," he said quietly. "I missed you guys and I never thought things would get this bad. I mean, it seemed like it was goin' well for you guys on the west coast."

"Oh yeah, real fuckin' peachy. Ice made us  _so_  much better. Fuck, you really have no clue what happened, do you?"

"I know enough..."

Terry scoffed. "Apparently not."

Jim opened the fridge and took out a Patriot beer before taking his spot back at the counter. He popped off the cap and took a swig.

"Oh, yeah, sure help yourself," Terry said, dryly.

For the longest moment, the only sounds were the hum of the fridge and the birds chirping outside. Terry had many questions he wanted to ask but found them caught in his throat. Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed a beer for himself and invited Jim into the living-room.

The awkward silence between them was broken when Dogmeat's yipping barks sounded from outside, snapping Terry's attention away from Jim. He stood and limped to the sliding glass door and let the canine in. Dogmeat came trotting through the house with his head held high and his tail swishing back and forth. After lapping up a hearty fill of water, he pranced back into the living-room and laid his slobbery, wet muzzle in Jim's lap. The Hispanic man cringed as he wiped away the mess the dog left on his pant leg.

Terry chuckled and sat across from Jim. "Serves you right, asshole."

Jim raised his middle finger to his old friend and then took a drink. The sting from Terry's punch still lingered on his cheek. "So, now do you want to hear what I have to say or will ya punch me again?"

Terry lit up a cigarette. "Depends on what you have to say. Start talkin'."

Jim sighed and set his drink on the table. "Alright, here's what happened..." He explained the day Johnny gave him the money, he passed the briefcase off to a Lost member who accompanied him that day. The other biker was a heavyset, white, balding man whose name Jim could no longer remember. After they went their separate ways, Jim was followed by a suspicious black car. He tried outrunning them but ended up being caught anyways and sent back to Ray's where he was tormented in the basement for nearly an hour. Until Ray had Johnny too. After they managed to escape, they went their separate ways. He lied and told the chapter president he would gather the rest of the bothers so they could figure out what to do while Johnny went to Ashley. Any other time, Jim would have been annoyed with Johnny for doing so, but while he was being burned by those loons, he made a promise to himself that if he survived, he was done with The Lost for Jackie and his son's sake. So, he and another Lost brother went back to the biker with the money. He lied, telling them that he was instructed to take the money to a hiding spot for safe keeping, and asked them to wait there in case Johnny came back. Once Jim got away with the money, he called Jackie and told her to pack as much as she could and to meet him outside the city in a small town called Madison in a few weeks. She cried on the other end, begging to know what was happening, but he couldn't tell her.

Weeks later, they met up in that backwoods town and fled to the west coast.

By the time Jim was done telling his story, Terry was working on his third cigarette. He showed little emotion and seemed spaced out. Jim wondered if his friend even heard him at all.

More awkward silence.

Finally, after smashing out what was left of his cigarette, Terry blew out the last of the smoke in his lungs, and said, "So, you fucked us over and got to live happily ever after?"

Jim shook his head. "It's not like that, Terry. I had a wife and son to think about and the day before Jackie told me she was pregnant again. I didn't want my kids growing up without a father. I figured you'd understand. Seeing as you were married once."

"The brothers come first," Terry said.

"Yeah, I know. That's why Kimberly divorced you."

Terry's expression twisted into a hateful scowl before he abruptly stood up and stormed outside with Dogmeat at his heels. He slammed the door behind him hard enough that it rattled everything in the house. If Jim were a weaker man, he would have flinched, but instead, he slowly rose from the armchair and followed after Terry.

He found Terry leaning against his Slamvan, lighting up another cigarette, while his dog sat obediently beside him.

"Those things'll give ya cancer," Jim said.

Terry only shrugged in response.

"Listen," Jim continued. "I only came out of hiding because I need your help."

"Must be that bad," Terry muttered.

"Oh, trust me, you don't even know the half of it. You ever hear of The Devil's Mark MC?"

Terry raised a brow. "The Devil's Mark?"

"This new Motorcycle Club that's been slowly gaining power in Northern San Andreas. They ain't the average biker, either. At least in the outlaw sense."

"Oh yeah? What do they do?"

Jim frowned and looked down at the dried out grass. "What don't they do? They roll into town and leave behind a disaster. They arrived in the town I'm livin' in and caused all sorts of trouble. They harass small businesses for 'protection money', start fights with other bikers just passin' through, and cause damage in the process. Innocent people have been hurt by these guys. Men, women,  _and_  children… it don't matter to them."

"So what's this got to do with you and me?" Terry asked.

"They came around my bike shop a few months ago and started harassing my family for protection money. I ran them off a coupl'a times but this last time they came back and burned my business down in retaliation, but that ain't the worst of it all: they went after my son. You still ride don't you?"

"Is the sky fuckin' blue?"

After getting his dark blue Western Nightblade from the back, Terry followed Jim to where ever he was taking him. Their ride would take almost three hours and during that time, Terry kept wondering if this were still a dream. Looking back on it, though, it did make sense. After Jim had "died", his old lady had him cremated and his ashes scattered elsewhere. She didn't want a memorial service and seemed off when Johnny tried to give her money. Jackie had never come off as a grieving widow, but at the time, Terry reminded himself that sometimes people mourned in different ways. He figured Jackie might have had someone else cremated. Maybe it was that other biker Jim mentioned. Hell, he wasn't sure. This was all too much to believe.

They weaved through traffic, dodging cars and other oncoming vehicles. The landscape around them slowly changed from open fields to a sea of pine trees in the rolling hills.

It felt good to ride with a familiar face again. Granted it was also still pretty fucking weird, but it was nice all the same. He had to keep saying to himself that Jim was alive. The more he admitted it, the better he felt. By the time they neared San Fierro's city limits, most of the anger he felt towards the older biker had dissolved.

"What's Jackie think about you comin' out of hiding?" Terry spoke after they came to a stop sign.

Jim's eyes clouded with grief for a moment before he said, "I figure she ain't got much to say, bein' she died a few months ago."

Pity stabbed at Terry's heart. "I'm sorry to hear that, brother. If you need anything-"

Jim raised a hand, cutting off Terry. "Don't. I don't want to think about it and I don't want to talk about it. I… let's just focus on something else."

"Alright then. How many runts you got now?"

Jim brightened and gave a chuckle. "Three. James Jr, Maggie, and Jonathan."

"Shit, man, I guess you've been busy."

"You could say that. Oh, hey we're here." Jim pointed to the hospital up ahead.

They parked their bikes across the street from the San Fierro Medical Center and quickly made their way to the pure white building. Terry always hated hospitals. They reeked of death and pine cleaner and it didn't help that when he was twelve he watched his grandma die in one of these places. It was also the place where Kimberly lost…

_Stop it! Just stop. The past is in the past. Ain't nothin' you can do about it now._

The automated doors parted for them. The two bikers walked through the lobby, took the elevator to the third floor, and continued down a white as snow hall that had sick patients sitting out in wheelchairs. He grimaced, remembering when he was forced to stay in the hospital after Trevor shot him. Some of the brothers came by to visit him, but slowly they stopped coming around. The only person truly there for him was Jessie. Despite her own grief, she went out of her way to make sure Terry was taken care of.

"He's in here," Jim said as they reached the room at the end of the hall.

Jim slowly pushed opened the door and peeked into the room before entering. They were greeted by an adolescent boy sitting up in a hospital bed, head partially wrapped in gauze bandages. His left eye was patched over and his right arm was in a cast. Despite looking like a truck ran him over, the boy seemed to be in bright spirits.

"Dad!" the boy said, excitedly. "Did you bring me Burger Shot? The food here sucks!"

"Not this time, James. I had to go see an old friend." Jim placed his hand on Terry's shoulder. "You remember Terrence don't you?"

His eyes rested on Terry and he tilted his head, trying to think back to his childhood. "I think so. Um, hi."

"Wait a sec, this is James?" Terry asked. "Jesus, he grew like a weed. How old are you now, kid?"

"Fifteen, almost sixteen, but dad still won't let me on a motorcycle." The boy pouted and fiddled with the cast on his arm.

"Now isn't the time," Jim chided. "James, you have to tell Terry what happened."

James' mood quickly changed. His one good eye shown fear and he became uneasy. The boy swallowed before he finally spoke. "It was those Devil's Mark guys. Three of them showed up at our house late one night demanding to know where my dad was, but I told them to fuck right off. Next thing I know, all three of them had me surrounded and well, now I'm here. Once I get better, I'm gonna teach those fuckers a lesson."

Terry was disgusted at what he heard. Sure, he had come across punk kids always trying to prove themselves and act Billy Badass, but it was always easier to scare the hell out of them than to hurt them. The Lost MC may have been a lot of things, but they always had some sort of code of honor. He thought back to the time he and Johnny caught a Deadbeat trying to steal Brian's bike. When they realized the prospect was just a kid no older than sixteen, Johnny roughed him up a bit but didn't go out of his way to actually hurt the boy. He let the kid go with a warning and they never saw him around again.

"My boy stood up to them and they put him in the fuckin' hospital," Jim said.

"And you want my help to teach them a lesson?" Terry asked.

"I want The Lost to teach 'em a lesson. Guys like the ones in The Devil's Mark have no respect and don't know the true meaning of brotherhood. They're becoming problematic and it's time someone disbands them for good."

Terry turned and faced Jim. "Wait, are you seriously suggesting  _we_  start a new Lost chapter? We're too old for that shit!"

Jim glanced briefly at his son before turning his attention back to Terry. "Let's discuss this outside. James, I'll be right back. Enjoy your hospital food." He gave a laugh and the boy raised a middle finger to his father.

Terry bid James goodbye before following Jim out into the hallway.

"I haven't told him yet, but the doctors said there's a chance he'll lose his eye." Jim pushed the button to the elevator. "You're the only one besides Angus that's left of the Alderney chapter." The elevator doors opened and two gossiping nurses exited. Terry stayed quiet as Jim continued to blab on about this outlandish idea of his. "The thing is," Jim began as they entered the elevator. "I can't run a chapter; not anymore. Back when Johnny took over, he made me Vice President. I didn't want the position, but I never questioned his authority. At least not out loud."

Terry was dreading where this was going. "So, if you don't want to lead The Lost, then who do you have in mind?"

"You."

"No. Not just no, but hell no! I am not the leader type. I was perfectly fine following Johnny's every order. I don't want to be responsible for an entire chapter. That shit got to Johnny real quick. Oh sure, he tried to pretend he was okay, but me and Clay could see it was taking a toll on him."

"I think you got what it takes to be president of The Lost MC."

They made it to the first floor and walked through the lobby. Once outside, Terry reached into the pocket of his vest and took out a pack of Redwoods. He selected a cigarette from the pack and lit up, letting the nicotine calm his nerves.

"Jesus, Terry, it's barely after one and you're on your fifth?" Jim asked as they crossed the street.

Terry exhaled the smoke into the San Fierro air, adding to its pollution. "You sound like my ex-wife. Besides, it keeps other cravings away and you got a lot of nerve to complain since you're the reason I feel like shit. You show up after all these years and expect me to be fuckin' calm about it?"

"All I'm sayin' is, you need to slow down. You never smoked this much back in the day." Jim stopped and pointed in the direction their bikes were parked. "We got trouble."

There standing near their bikes were three members of The Devil's Mark. Once they caught sight of Jim and Terry quickly approaching them, one of them stepped forward with his chest puffed out. His patch didn't say President, but he still carried himself as if he were the leader of the bunch. He was broad-shouldered, blond haired, with a goatee, and held his head high, like he were some almighty king. He wore a denim vest with The Devil's Mark logo on the back and faded blue jeans with a red bandanna tied around his blond head. Terry would guess he was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties.

Terry's eyes drifted to another patch worn by the leader. "Bikers for Love", a patch that was commonly worn by a lot of them these days and it wasn't the feel-good kind of love either. Donald Love, the rich yuppie twit who disappeared all those years ago, only to return out of nowhere in 2014 to announce he was running for president. Terry never gave a shit about politics. To him, it was all rigged, but he had to admit that election was an entertaining trainwreck.

"Is there a problem here, Jones?" Jim asked the leader.

The one called Jones replied, "I don't recall The Lost MC being allowed in this area."

"It's a free country," Terry said in an even tone. "I can go where ever I please."

Jones scoffed. "If you honestly believe that, then The Lost are more idiotic than I thought. No wonder a meth head took you guys out so easy."

"We ain't lookin' for trouble. We were just leaving. Right, Terry?" Jim glanced at his friend who gave a nod.

"Right, we were just leavin'."

Jones' steely eyes narrowed at Terry. "Your glory days are over, old man."

"Ya know," Terry began. "Back in my day, we stuck it to rich fat-cats like Love, not take it up the ass from them, like you seem to be doing." Beside him, Jim muttered under his breath, but he didn't catch what he said.

"Is that so?" Jones replied. He gave a snap of his fingers, signaling one of the prospects. The younger biker kicked Terry's Nightblade over.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" Terry tossed up his hands and growled. He was ready to knock the piss out of this Devil's Mark asshole, when Jim grabbed his bicep, stopping him before he could try anything.

"Come on, Terry, let's get out of here."

"Yeah, listen to your husband!" one of the Devils said.

"Next time we catch The Lost in this area again, we'll do worse than scratch the paint," Jones warned. "Let's roll out." He ordered the other two.

As the Devils rode away, Terry lifted his bike and looked it over. The paint was scuffed, the kickstand was slightly bent, and there was a crack in the headlight. As if things couldn't get any worse. He was tempted to take out his heavy revolver and blast the brains out of those fuckers, but all it would only cause more trouble for him than he needed. The last thing he wanted was every Devil in the area coming down on his ass.

"What the hell was that, T?" Jim asked while helping inspect the Nightblade.

Terry faced the former Lost treasurer. "What do you mean: 'What the hell was that?'. Did you not see what they just did to my bike?"

"Yeah, I saw and I also heard what you said. You've been at this long enough to know that you have to show some respect, whether you like it or not."

"From what you've described, it doesn't sound like they give a fuck about respect either. So why should I give them a shred of it?"

"Do you have a goddamn death wish?"

Terry ignored the question and sat atop his Nightblade. He sat back, arms folded, waiting for Jim to say something else. Instead, the older man simply shook his head and got on his Zombie. It was obvious Terry wasn't the man he used to be. He was battered both physically and mentally, but Jim hoped that with some encouragement and motivation, Terry could become the leader The Lost needed.

The Lost were far from heroes, but they also didn't let scum like the Devil's Mark get away with the shit they were doing. Like it or not, Terry was helping Jim on this. He had to.

After flicking his cigarette butt the ground, Terry said. "I'm sorry I decked you earlier."

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah well, I'm sorry I brought up your ex. Can we put this behind us?"

"If we're going to do this, and I mean  _if_  it's pointless for a brother to be against brother, so yeah, it's behind us."

"So, you'll lead The Lost?"

"I don't know, Jim. I need to think about this some more."

Jim reached into his jacket and pulled out one of his old business cards and passed it to Terry. "Here, take this and give me a call when you've made a decision. We can talk more when eyes and ears ain't all over the place."

Terry looked the card over before placing it in his breast pocket. "Listen, I'm gettin' out of here. I think I've overstayed my welcome in this part of the city and this is still a lot to take in. I'll see ya around."

Jim gave a nod. "Yeah, see ya."

Terry started his bike, but before he rode off, he called out to Jim one last time. "Hey, Fitz!" Jim stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Get that kid some Burger Shot! I think he's been through enough." Jim responded by flipping him off and Terry laughed as he rode away.

* * *

By the time he made it out of city limits, he felt he could finally relax again. Being on his bike was one of the few activities that brought him any sort of peace of mind anymore.

For the hundredth time that day he asked himself if this were real and if he were honest, he wished Jim had stayed in hiding. He was beginning to move on with his life and then along comes this ghost resurrected after ten long years. Jim certainly didn't age well either. The lines on his face and the gray in his hair told him that Jim's life probably wasn't as easy as Terry previously believed and what happened to Jackie? Jim said she passed a few months ago around the same time The Devil's Mark showed up. He had a bad feeling that they had a hand in her death.

The more he thought about it, the more compelled he felt to take Jim up on his offer.

The closer he got to Cedar Creek, he realized the last place he wanted was to go home. As the sun began to set, he noticed a bar up ahead with a flashing sign that read  _Tanya's Place._  Out front were a few bikes and a nice Ubermacht Zion that stuck out like a sore thumb. He parked his bike on the other side of the coupe and walked into the bar.

He was greeted by honky-tonk music and a middle-aged woman working the bar. She was short with gray streaks in her red hair and wore a leather jacket over a white shirt. At the end of the bar were two young bikers who were too lost in conversation to notice him. Terry eyed them carefully, checking for any patches that connected them to outlaw clubs. When he didn't see any, he relaxed and sat at the other end of the bar.

He ordered a beer and kept to himself. The bar, for the most part, seemed deserted without any sign of the person driving the coupe.

Halfway through his beverage, he heard someone behind him begin a game of pool. Numbered balls clacked as they smacked into each other. He glanced over his shoulder out of curiosity and was surprised to see a tall, pretty, bleach blonde woman playing by herself. She certainly didn't belong in a place like this with the way she was dressed. Her designer jeans and red buttoned up blouse hugged her curves. She was probably a spoiled rich girl who loved spending daddy's money. Still, there was something about her that he was drawn to.

He finished off his drink, ordered another, and decided to go talk to her.


	3. Introducing Danielle Bash!

When Jeff Keegan came into Dani Bash's life offering her a way out of her rural, Midwestern town, she didn't hesitate to take it. Her mother had tried to raise her girls to be strong, independent women, but Dani was desperate for adventure. It was a decision she would come to regret.

Shortly after graduation, Dani packed a suitcase and left with Jeff in his beat-up Imponte Phoenix. They drove as far and as fast as that car would take him. Finally, after a week of traveling, they arrived at Blaine County and settled in a town called Sandy Shores. When Dani was a kid she once found an old postcard from that area promising of a luxurious resort, but that postcard was fifty years old and the town she found herself in was worse than the one she once called home. She wanted to cry but didn't want to seem ungrateful to Jeff. After all, he got her out of the town she hated and maybe Sandy Shores wouldn't be so bad.

The first year they lived in the desert town, everything was great. Maybe not financially because the recession hit them the hardest, but Jeff was kind and funny. Anything she wanted he tried to give her. Nobody had ever shown her that kind of love before and it was almost frightening. Eventually, Jeff found a job at the quarry and Dani started working at the local 24/7 store.

They saved every dollar they made and for a moment, Dani thought they were finally getting out until she began to notice changes in Jeff. He stayed out all night, began to lose weight at an alarming rate, and his temperament changed dramatically. He was no longer the man she had fallen for. Their money dwindled faster than she could save and Jeff lost his job at the quarry. Shortly after that, she found out he was smoking methamphetamine and everything went from bad to worse. He never went out to look for another job and stayed at home to get high on the couch, leaving it all on Dani to pay the bills.

One night he came home high and Dani decided to finally confront him about it. They screamed at each other until Jeff had enough and slapped Dani so hard she fell and cut her head on the kitchen counter. She lied there on the floor too stunned and hurt to cry. No one, not even her parents, had struck her before. Jeff, realizing what he did, left the house and didn't come back until the next morning. He cried and apologized multiple times, promising to never strike her again. As he clung to her, begging for another chance, her mother's words echoed in her mind.

_Remember girls, if he hits you once, he'll hit you again. Don't ever give someone like that a second chance. You get out and you get out fast! You hear me?_

But maybe Dani's love for him would be enough. It wasn't his fault anyway. The meth was making him do it, right? So all she had to do was stick by him and love would conquer all, but as time went on, she found that love wasn't enough to cure an addiction or stop someone from beating her ass every night. Within a year, he completely lost it, forcing her to cut off all contact with her family, taking away her cell phone, and forbidding her from using any form of social media.

There were days when she wanted to swallow an entire bottle of pills, but somehow she kept going. She stayed away from home, working double shifts, and only returning late at night when Jeff wasn't home. By morning she was awake before sun up and at work again. The only thing that kept her from losing it was Daisy, a Golden Retriever/Collie mix she found eating scraps behind the store. When she brought the beast home, Jeff wasn't happy. He claimed dogs were too expensive and demanded she got rid of it. When she refused, he broke three of her fingers.

She spent many nights, lying awake, and praying to a god that she didn't believe in to take her away from this mess. If there was a God, then he had a strange sense of humor when he answered her prayers in the form of Trevor Philips. Trevor had always been her neighbor, but she avoided him like the plague. He was loud and violent, not to mention one of the most dangerous men she had ever come across and that was saying a lot! Not surprisingly, Jeff began to rack up debt with Trevor, making things for Dani even more difficult. In the winter of 2013, Jeff disappeared one night, though Dani knew Trevor was involved. She waited a few days before filing a missing person report and then left it at that. She didn't care if he was found and tried her best to continue life as normal.

A few weeks later Trevor showed on her doorstep with an interesting offer: become a drug runner for Trevor Philips Industries and never worry about money again. She said yes because if she said no, he would have killed her. It was a nerve-wracking job and sometimes she lost sleep thinking the police would break down her door any minute, but it paid her bills and soon Trevor saw potential in her, giving her more work and taking her under his wing. He honed her skills with the gun(her favorite was an old double action revolver), and taught her how to defend herself. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel powerless.

In a strange way, Trevor became a father figure to her. Something most folks in town would never understand.

In 2015, she met Lester Crest and Agent 14. They saw potential in her as well, getting her involved in heist, among other kinds of missions. There were times when Dani thought she was going to die, but somehow she always pulled through, even if some of her teammates didn't. She moved out of her broken down trailer in Sandy Shores and bought a humble house in Paleto Bay. Almost three years later, she was a retired criminal and occasionally did work for a Vinewood studio as a stunt double.

She had her dog and reunited with her estranged family. There was nothing else she needed. She was through with crime and definitely through with relationships.

Then  _he_ came along…

* * *

"Mind if I join you?"

Dani jumped and spun around to face a man holding two Logger beers in hand. He was tall and broad-shouldered with light brown hair and a pair of ice blue eyes that she couldn't resist. She always loved a blue-eyed man. She would guess he was in his mid to late thirties and judging by all of those patches, he was in The Lost MC. She became worried, remembering Trevor's warnings about them.

"I, uh, didn't mean to scare you," he said. "It's just that pool isn't any fun when it's just one person." He held out a beer for her. "So, do you wanna play a game or two?"

_He seems nice though. Maybe a little sad, but nice. Besides, Trevor's far from an angel._

"He's tryin' to flirt with you, honey!" Tanya croaked from behind the bar. The bartender's voice made Dani think this woman remembered when chocolate was invented.

Dani felt her face heat up and the biker seemed to be embarrassed as well. "Thank you, Captain Obvious!" she deadpanned to Tanya. Dani rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the biker. "Sure we can play pool together. I'll grab the balls." She mentally slapped herself for saying that.  _Really, Dani, grab the balls? Ugh, he probably wants you to grab his balls!_

She set the balls in the rack, unsure if they were in the right order or if they had an order at all. Most of the time she played by herself. It helped when her thoughts never stopped whirling through her mind.

She lined the white billiard in front of the triangle and decided to let the mysterious biker go first. It was the polite thing to do since he bought her a drink. She wasn't very good at this whole social interaction thing.

He lined his cue with the ball and broke the triangle. They bounced off the railing and clacked together as they rushed around the green felt. A solid yellow spun around, inching its way towards a pocket before finally falling in. Darn. She liked the solid ones more. Oh well.

It was still his turn. He lined the cue ball with a green one hoping to pocket it, but instead, he hit a blue striped one. He muttered a swear and let her have a turn.

"So, do you have a name?" he asked while she chose the right angle.

She looked up from her pool stick and smiled. "No, see, when I was born my parents couldn't think of one so I became Blank Blank."

"Very funny."

She took her shot and pocketed a brown stripe ball. "I'm Danielle, but most folks call me Dani."

"Terry and I think I'll stick with Danielle if you don't mind."

Dani shrugged. "I don't mind."

"It's just weird calling a girl Danny."

She giggled. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a little strange. At least I'm not called Bobbie-Jo." She cringed remembering her poor friend being named something as hideous as that.

"Let me guess, you're from the country?" he said.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only a lot. Your accent was a giveaway."

Dani always hated her accent. Whenever she pronounced certain words, Tracey would laugh and mock her. Sometimes, she really hated that bubble-headed idiot.

She took a drink before using her extra turn. This time, however, she didn't pocket anything. Terry took his turn and like Dani didn't pocket a ball.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"The oh-so-wonderful state of Oklahoma," she replied. "Home of the five civilized tribes, meth-heads, rednecks, and tornadoes! What about you, since you asked?"

"A little farming town in Alderney."

"Really? Have you ever seen the Alderney Devil? I once watched this documentary on it and I was too scared to leave my house at night for weeks." she asked, wide-eyed.

Terry laughed. "The Alderney Devil isn't real. We typically like to scare the tourist with made up stories about it snatching school children and shit like that. The tourists eat it up."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. Okay, so maybe this guy wasn't so bad and certainly didn't seem as dangerous as Trevor made his kind out to be. Still, she kept up her guard just in case. A tiny voice in the back of her head told her all men were the same. They were all nice at first, weren't they? And then the next minute, they leave you crying on the bathroom floor while you hold the side of your bruised face. That tiny voice made her hate Jeff all the more. It was a constant reminder that no matter what she did, the mental and emotional scars he left behind would never truly heal. Not all men were like Jeff and she had to constantly remind herself of it, but some days were harder than others. She wished just once she could relax and put it all behind her.

She forced those awful memories away. One of the reasons she traveled miles from home was so she could clear her head. She didn't expect to end up in this dive bar or be hit on by some biker.

"Are you okay? You seem a little spaced out." His voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Her face grew hot. She tended to have a wandering mind and sometimes it affected the heist she did. It was another quirk of hers that Tracey often poked fun at.

"Oh, um, sorry about that. Sometimes I get like that at random." She gave a nervous laugh and looked down at the green felt.  _Why do I have to be such a flake? I can_ _go into a job with confidence with nothing to fear but the moment a man talks to be me I turn into a scared little mouse._

"It's fine. I was worried that I was boring you."

"No, of course not!"

Their game continued until Dani accidentally knocked the 8-ball into a hole, causing her to automatically lose the game. Even though she felt awkward, she still said yes when he offered to play another game with her.

She ordered another drink to help loosen herself up. She wasn't typically a drinker, but when she had a little alcohol in her system, she didn't feel as anti-social.

They were half-way through their second game when Dani could no longer take the sad hillbilly music that cried from the jukebox.

"I'm sorry, but I'm changing the song," Dani announced. "I don't mind country music, but I can only take so much."

"I thought you'd never say anything!" Terry said.

"And here I thought you liked Hank Williams and Charlie Daniels," she called from the jukebox.

"I'd rather cut off my own arm," he replied.

Dani flipped through the endless albums of hillbilly music, annoyed at their lack of rock. She found a Nickelback song, but she doubted he liked them. There was Johnny Cash, but she wasn't in the mood for his music at that moment. She was about to give up when she came across ZZ Top. She put in the quarter and selected the song.  _Can't Stop Rockin_  blasted through the speakers and Dani took her spot back at the billiard.

"Nice song," he said while racking up the balls.

"My parents really love ZZ Top. They're the reason I listen to classic rock. I love eighties music, too. In fact, I love everything about the eighties!"

"You were born in nineteen-ninety, weren't you?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Because the only people who actually love the eighties are people born in that year. Trust me, if you actually lived through the decade, you wouldn't have liked it as much as you do."

"Ah come on, the eighties were cool! It had the best music, it had the best movies, the fashion! Really, you didn't like it?"

"Nope. I don't miss it at all. Most people who can't let go of the eighties are from Vice City."

"I guess the grass is always greener."

Before Terry could reply, the two men that had been keeping to themselves, slid off the bar stools and stormed over to the pool table. Dani had her back to the young bikers when one of them placed a large hand on her shoulder. She jumped at the man's touch but didn't move.

"We were listening to that!" the young biker growled.

"And now you're not," Terry replied.

"So? Go illegally download the song you want like the rest of us," Dani retorted. With that, she moved away from him and tried to pretend he wasn't there. She noticed Terry's blue eyes narrow at the men and hoped this guy wouldn't try to defend her honor. The last thing she wanted was a bar fight. This situation would have to be handled as peaceful as possible. "Look, we're all here to have a good time. It's clear you both have had too many drinks, but that's okay. Let me finish my song and y'all can listen to whatever want, alright?"

The man's large hand wrapped tightly around Dani's wrist. She turned to face the biker to see his brown eyes reflecting with hatred. Memories of Jeff and his explosive temper flashed across her mind. She froze while everything in her told her to fight back. The other biker who was much shorter than the one holding Dani stood on the other side of her. Maybe Trevor was right about bikers after all.

"Leave her alone, asshole!" Terry had reached all three of them by then. "I'll only tell you once."

Terry's voice snapped her out of the frightened trance. She looked down at her wrist and then back up to the angry stranger. Terry and the short one looked as if they were ready to fight.

Fight or flight was kicking and she wasn't in the position to run, which meant she only had one other option left. So much for getting out of this peacefully.

Terry noticed something flash across Dani's apple green eyes. In a matter of seconds, she changed from a scared rabbit to an angry predator. Did she really think she stood a chance against that guy? He had to get to her fast before she got hurt, but first, he had to deal with the prick suffering from short man syndrome.

" _Let me go!"_  she growled.

The man reached down with his other hand and gave her ass a squeeze. "You're not going anywhere."

She had enough. It was time to teach this asshole a lesson.  _ **"I SAID LET ME GO!"**_

With her free hand, she grabbed the beer bottle off the table and swung it with everything she had. The bottle smashed into his face, shattering and stunning him long enough for Dani to pull away from his grasp. She grabbed him by the shoulders, drew up her knee, and struck him in the groin. The man cried out and cupped his pride and glory before falling to his knees.

While he writhed in pain on the floor, Terry stood there in shock at what he had witnessed. The entire time he mistook the girl as a weak and helpless little yuppie from the city. He made a mental note to never piss her off. He was too busy gawking at her, that he was caught off guard when a fist collided with his face, knocking him into the billiard table. The short biker laughed as Terry groaned and touched the side of his face.

"Alright, asshole, you asked for it!" Terry growled.

"Ah, shit here we go again!" Tanya said before ducking behind the bar.

Terry grabbed the biker by his jacket and slammed his fist into the short biker's face, blooding his noses and possibly breaking it. By then, the first biker had risen to his feet, all the while groaning in pain.

"Are you gonna apologize to me now?" Dani asked the man.

"Fuck you, cunt," he scoffed.

She glared at the man. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

He smirked. "I said, you're a cu-"

He was cut off when a right hook to his jaw knocked him over, causing him to hit the corner of the pool table. This time he didn't seem to be in a position to get back up. Terry stood over him, waiting just in case the man decided he wanted more.

"Next time, learn how to speak to a lady," Terry said.

"Wow, that's gonna hurt him in the morning," Dani commented. She turned to face Terry. "Thanks for that."

She smiled at him with her cherry colored lips and he found that he liked when she did. When she stepped into better lighting, he noticed the freckles that dusted her face.

"Don't mention it. So, you wanna take a break from the pool and grab a drink?"

The short biker came running at Dani, at that moment, bloody nose and all. "I'll handle this one." She delivered a side kick to the man face, causing him to stumble back. She then grabbed a fist full of his hair and smashed his head into the pool table, knocking him unconscious.

Terry found that he was both turned on and afraid of her.  _I think I just found my new kink._

"Still want that drink?" he asked.

"Sure, all this fighting makes me thirsty."

"I'll buy the first round. I think it's safe to say you did more work than me."

Dani giggled and ran her fingers through her hair. She was beginning to feel comfortable around him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could still hear Trevor's warnings about The Lost, but she ignored them. Terry wasn't that bad.

Besides, what was wrong with having a drink or two?

* * *

Dani blinked open her eyes and allowed them to adjust as she slowly came to. She had a slight headache and there was a wetness between her legs. She tried to remember the events of the night before, but it was a blur. As she looked around the room, she realized she wasn't in her home in Paleto Bay, but some cheap back road motel.

She slowly sat up, looked to her left, and nearly fell out of bed at the sight of a naked man beside her. Suddenly everything that happened the night before hit her with full force. The pool game, a fight, and drinking with a biker. More memories came to mind, as the fuzziness of sleep and liquor faded. They drank whiskey and the more she had, the more relaxed she became. He told her dirty jokes that she would normally find gross, but with the alcohol in her system, they were hilarious. By her sixth shot, Dani was feeling light-headed, but Terry kept going. The next thing she knew, they were outside behind the bar making out. He had her pressed against the brick wall while his hands explored her body. He tasted like cheap whiskey and cigarettes with a hint of mint.

"You wanna take this someplace else?" he asked.

She laughed and said "okay" a little too loud.

Motorcycles scared her, but he told her he would be careful. His bike was mean looking and didn't seem to match him at all. Just as promised, he was careful and the wind on her face felt amazing. She didn't like that her hair was wind tangled, but he didn't seem to care. By the time they checked into a room they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

She blushed thinking about what happened next.

Slowly, Dani carefully crawled out of bed and scanned the floor for her clothes. She found her bra on the dresser, her panties still in her jeans in the corner of the room, and her shirt was surprisingly hanging from the ceiling fan. She softly giggled at that but then became worried when she couldn't reach it. She would have to ask him to get it for her when he woke up. She dressed in the clothes she could grab and looked around for her shoes.

Draped over a small chair were his Lost MC vest, black jeans, and a desert eagle. She noticed his wallet was laying out on the floor and open. Curious, she picked it up to see just who she had slept with. It was wrong of her to go through his things but she was always a little nosy.

_Terrence Thorpe, date of birth: 8/9/1977. He's older than I took him for._

She placed his wallet beside the gun and tried to reach for her shirt again. As she stretched for the red blouse, her gaze drifted down to the man she spent the night with. The sheet covered most of his body, but from what she could see, his chest was scarred. His shoulder had the worst of it though. She'd guess an old gunshot wound judging by the looks of it. She knew the pain of being shot and empathized.

She finally reached her shirt off the ceiling fan and quickly put it on. The blouse was halfway buttoned when Terry began to wake up. She froze when he opened his eyes and sat up.

"Hey, you're still here. Well, I guess you would be," he said before yawning.

"Yeah, I just woke up. I… I should be going. I'm sure you have a lot to do today."

"That's a long walk back to the bar. Why don't I give you a ride?"

She hesitated for a moment before agreeing. "Sure and thank you."

He tossed the covers off, revealing the rest of himself to her. Dani blushed and covered her eyes. He found her behavior odd after what happened the night before.

"There's no point in hidin' your face. We've already seen each other naked," Terry said.

"It was dark last night. I didn't see much of you. Oh boy, I'm gonna go hide in the bathroom while you get dressed." With her hand still over her face, she turned and ran for the bathroom, smacking the door in the process.

 _She's a weird girl._  Terry thought.  _Still cute though._

Outside, the bright sun made Dani wince. She must have been more to drink than she thought. She made it a note to never try whiskey again.

_I'm a total lightweight…_

Judging by their surroundings, she would guess they were in Angel Pines. Not the most prospering town, but it had a charm to it.

She followed him down the steps while studying his gang patch. She remembered when The Lost were crawling all over Blaine County before Trevor made sure they weren't. She heard the stories about Trevor killing their president. She knew of Johnny and thought he was nice. He always kept the younger members in line whenever they went inside the 24/7 and even hit one for trying to steal from the store. After Johnny died, the Blaine County chapter became unruly and started causing trouble. She wondered if Terry was once apart of that bunch.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Terry asked.

Dani blinked and snapped out of her thoughts. "Oh, um, my mentor taught me basic self-defense, but then I took up taekwondo and krav maga a year later. Some say it's very basic, but it was proven effective against those guys last night."

"I'm glad you took up martial arts. Your flexibility was proven effective in the motel, too," he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's exactly why I became a black belt. I've always wanted to wrap my legs around a man's neck without pulling a muscle."

The Nightblade was at the end of the parking lot. Terry got on the bike and waited for Dani to sit behind him. Without the alcohol, she wasn't as brave as she felt last night, but she didn't want Terry to see that she was scared.

"What do I hold on to?" she asked.

"My waist."

"Oh… um, what about a helmet?"

"What's a helmet?" he said with a laugh.

She sighed and said, "Well, I guess if it's my time to go..."

"Hey, you'll like it, I promise. Everything looks and feels different on the back of a bike."

She climbed on and held his sides tight, but not too tight. He warned her that the bike was touchy and he wasn't wrong. The moment he hit the throttle, she almost fell off.

"I warned you!" he called over his shoulder.

Just like the night before, he was mindful of his passenger. It wasn't making her feel any better though. When Dani was twelve she and her cousin, Buster, were playing on his four-wheeler, jumping hills, and running through mud puddles. Then Buster took a sharp turn on a hill and both cousins went tumbling down the hill with the four-wheeler. Somehow, Dani's calf was sliced open resulting in stitches. Both walked away with concussions and Dani's mother, a hot-headed Choctaw woman, had a fit and forbid her from even riding one again. Not that she needed forbidding. After that, she was terrified of motorcycles and four-wheelers.

Now here she was, almost sixteen years later and she was on the back of a bike with a man she barely knew. At least this guy seemed smarter than her scatterbrained cousin. Ten minutes into the ride, Dani began to feel better. Terry was right about it feeling different on a motorcycle. Strangely enough, she felt safer, even if common sense told her it wasn't. She also loved the wind in her hair, even if it tangled it more. There was also a sense of freedom she felt as they rode back to Tanya's Bar. She could sort of see why he liked it as much as he did.

"Can I ask you something?" she said over the strong gust of wind and a loud engine.

"Sure!"

"How long how have you been in a biker gang?"

"Club!" he corrected.

"What?"

"The correct term is motorcycle club. Not biker gang."

They pulled up in front of the bar and Dani careful got off the bike.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Dani said while nervously running her fingers through her hair.

"You didn't offend me. It's a common mistake, but just know in the future, others might not be as nice and to answer your question, I joined when I turned eighteen. Been with The Lost MC ever since."

"Wow that's really young don't you think?"

He shrugged. "It is, but I don't regret my decision."

"So, if you're a club and not a gang, then how come I hear about motorcycle club doing gang activities?"

"Because we're an  _outlaw_  MC. You have regular MCs that can be as dangerous as us, but for the most part, they're harmless. Then you have riding clubs. All they do is get together and ride. That's it. They don't hold meetings, they don't have ranks, and they're not very well liked by most MCs. Personally, I don't give a shit what they do. It's American, fuck it."

"Oh, I see." She looked down at the ground, trying to think of something else to say. Why did peopling have to be so hard? Why couldn't she just have the confidence that Tracey had? "Well, thank you for the ride and the um… good time last night." She felt her face warm at the memory.

He laughed softly and said, "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

"Same place?"

"Sure, we can even check into the same motel room."

She giggled. "Sounds like a plan. I sometimes go to this bar when I'm bored. There's a chance you'll find me here next week, same time, doing the same activity."

"Well maybe I'll be here next week," he replied.

She smiled and tucked an unruly strand behind her ear. "Alright then. See ya next week." Her phone began to ring in her pocket at that moment. She saw it was her boss, Solomon Richards, and ignored it. He wasn't going to be happy with her, but she didn't care. "Well, I guess I better go. Work calls."

"Yeah, see ya around." With that, she turned and walked back to her sky blue Zion.

As he watched her go, he felt disappointed when the Zion disappeared over the hill. Danielle was a strange woman, but he liked her anyway. He felt a happy feeling tingle inside of him at the thought of seeing her again. He quickly dismissed it, however, as he knew the last time he felt that way, he ended up paying alimony seven years later. She was only a dumb millennial to fuck on the side and that was all she would ever be.

He had a feeling his life was about to become chaotic again and she would be the perfect stress relief.

* * *

Two days later, The Devil's Mark swarmed The Lost MC's clubhouse in Los Santos and slaughtered most of the members including their chapter president Lyle Moss and most of their higher ranking members. The president of the Devil's Mark, Martin Kilgore, had walked up to Moss and shot him point blank in the head. His remaining brothers had not known he was dead until after the fight had ended. All around them were dead members of The Lost and a few innocent people caught in the firefight.

A day later after the bodies had been removed, the few remaining members of the Los Santos chapter decided to put the place out of its misery and doused the building in gasoline before lighting a match. They all stood outside and watched as the building they all once called home was engulfed in flames. Everything they had worked hard for in Johnny's memory was now gone. It was official, the Los Santos chapter was gone.

As a billow of black smoke danced into the air, twenty-five-year-old Justin Marston stood behind the only senior member left and wonder what they were going to do now. He joined The Lost seven years earlier after he left his humble farm in the Midwest. Ever since then, they were his second family and he finally felt that he belonged somewhere. Now, however, he truly did feel lost.

He stood beside Ash Morales, the only senior member left and their road captain. Ash was a tall, lanky, Mexican man in his late thirties. He was expected to lead them now, but he didn't want to. After all this, he was through. Rachelle Knott, a young prospect, stood on the other side of Justin and glanced his way with a look of worry on her face. He placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to reassure her everything would be okay, but she wasn't consoled.

"This is fucking bullshit," muttered Reggie O' Neil. Reggie was a twenty-nine-year-old, flame-haired, short, stocky build man who bragged about his Irish heritage whenever he had the chance. "I've never even heard of these Devil Mark fucks!"

"Neither have I," replied Ash.

"What now?" Justin asked.

The three younger members looked to their road captain for the answers, but he didn't have any. This was truly the end of The Lost MC. "Pack it in, boys, we're through." Ash turned away from them and walked back to his bike.

Reggie, Justin, and Rachelle watched as Ash rode away, leaving them with a sense of helplessness.

"Oh yeah? Well, fuck you then, old man!" Reggie shouted after the road captain. "We don't need him anyway," he said to the others.

"Come on, we gotta get word out to the other members about what happened," Rachelle said.

"What other members? Everyone's either left or become Nomads."

"Well they have to be informed and our brothers' families need to as well. Now come on, we have a lot of work to do."

After Terry received the news about the Los Santos chapter, he knew his decision had been made for him. The Devil's Mark were becoming a problem and now something had to be done. He called Jim who answered right away.

"What's your choice, brother?"

"I'll do it," Terry said. "Fuck, I'm gonna regret this, but I'll fucking lead The Lost."

"Good. I'll swing by in a few days and we'll make a plan."

"This is it, then. The Lost MC are coming back."

"Hell yeah, they are. Peace and prosperity be damned."

Terry looked out the window and saw his Nightblade, remembering what the Devil's prospect did to it. "Peace and prosperity be damned."


	4. Wishing to Forget

**Rural Alderney-1993**

_T_ _erry sat on the tailgate of his father's truck, bored to tears. His father was inside the hardware store buying supplies and mingling with some_ _of_ _the employees. The one black mark against his father was that he talked way too much, but Allen Thorpe thought his son didn't talk enough._

_The sixteen-year-old boy sighed, lied back on a ba_ _g_ _of feed, and looked up at the clear blue sky wondering if this was all he had to look forward to. He never did care for farming. He thought maybe at one point he wanted this life, but once he enter_ _ed_ _high school, it suddenly hit him that he could do more with his life._ _Of course, his father wouldn't like it, but it was his life to li_ _ve._

_Across the street from the hardware store, was an old biker bar, and standing outside were old bikers_ _with_ _a few younger ones._ _Terry sat up and watched as the older men pushed each other around,_ _laughed, and revved up their bikes. Something about the roar of a motorcycle always got his heart pounding_ _and every nerve within him tingling with excitement._ _It_ _gave him a rush_ _that small town life and a boring farm never would._

_He thought about getting his own_ _motorcycle_ _, but his father insisted he buy a car first._ _His father insisted on a lot of things, but he never once asked Terry what_ he _wanted with his life. The adolescent boy felt a surge of dread overwhelm him the more he thought about being stuck here for the rest of his life._

_H_ _e slid off the tailgate of the old Sandler, walked around to the passenger side, and took his Panason_ _y_ _Trekman out of the glove compartment. Opening the cassette player revealed that he had a_ _Bob Seger_ _tape inside. Not what he was in the mood for, but that was okay. As long as it wasn't Nirvana or the Smashing Pumpkins he was fine. He couldn't understand how his brother, Collin, could listen to that trash without wanting to cut off his own ears. Terry preferred the classics over grunge any day._

I was born in the wrong decade.  _Terry thought, sadly._

_As he put on his headphones, a shadow cast over him. He turned to see who was blocking out the sun and found it was Jared Anderson, a local bully, and high school drop out. Jared stood a head taller than Terry and was broader, too. The two boys rarely interacted, making him wonder what this kid wanted._

_Terry placed the headphones around his neck, then asked Jared what he wanted._

" _Got a dollar?" Jared asked._

" _Sorry, man, I'm broke," Terry responded._

_Jared's eyes narrowed at the smaller boy and he took a step forward. Terry had to admit, he was slightly afraid of this kid, especially after hearing all of the fucked up shit that Jared did to small animals and children._

" _How do I know you're not lying to me?" Jared asked._

" _Chill," Terry said. "I don't have any money, okay?"_

_Before he could turn away, Jared grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the door of the truck. The slender metal handle sent a sharp pain throughout the right side of his back when he collided into it. His Trekman slipped from his hands, disconnecting from the headphone jack, and clattered onto the pavement._

" _I think you're lying to me, Terrence."_

_Terry bit back the pain as the handle pressed harder against his back. Jared wrapped a hand around Terry's throat and squeezed as hard as he could. For a moment, the younger boy was too stunned to fight back as the much bigger adolescent towered over him._

_Jared shoved his hand into Terry's pocket and retrieved his wallet. Jared opened the wallet and took fifteen dollars from it before punching Terry in the gut. He doubled over in pain while clutching his stomach._

" _Next time, don't lie," Jared growled._

_Then Jared lifted his boot high then brought it down and smashed the Trekman to pieces. Terry straightened himself, using the truck as a crutch. He looked down at the remains of his main source of entertainment and grew angry. Never had he been disrespected at this level before and never had he felt that much hatred for anyone in his life, but at that moment, he hated Jared Anderson with a passion. He imagined himself bashing Jared's skull in and making the bastard cry for mercy. Without thinking, Terry rushed forward and punched Jared as hard as he could. Jared stumbled but didn't fall._

_Although Jared was bigger than Terry, Terry was far from puny. Years of hard farm work had made him lean with muscle and he had won a few fights in the past._

_Jared was caught off guard for a moment before he came to his senses. His eyes darkened and he gave a smug grin before laughing._

" _You got balls, Terrence, but you're also stupid."_

_Terry knew this would end badly for him. Jared landed a punch, catching Terry on the chin. He fell back and hit the pavement hard. Before he could move, Jared had him pinned to the ground. He tried to wiggle free from Jared's grasp, but at nineteen, Jared was much stronger than Terry. All he could do now was lay there while this kid used Terry's face and chest as a punching bag._

_Stars shot across his vision as he took the blows to his body. He didn't know how long it lasted, but years later, Collin would say that he lasted longer than he thought. Terry wished he'd pass out by now. He couldn't tell if the blows he was taking were the cause of his spotted vision or it was the hot summer sun shining brightly above him._

_Rapid footfalls were steadily approaching the two teens. A dark blond haired biker grabbed Jared by his shirt collar and pulled him off of his victim. Whoever this guy was, was bigger than Jared, but didn't look any older than him, possibly eighteen or nineteen. He delivered a swift punch to the bully's face and Jared went down like a tree. Jared groaned while holding the side of his face. He tried to speak, but it was too painful for him._

" _Ever hear of picking on someone your own size?" the biker asked._

_Jared could only reply with a groan._

" _I hope it is broken, you fuckin' punk!"_

_The biker gave Jared a swift kick and demanded he stand up. When Jared refused, he kicked the bully again. This time he obeyed and slowly rose from the pavement. In one quick move, he grabbed Jared by the back of the neck and forced him to bend down._

" _If I see you in this area again, I'll get the brothers to help me kick your ass!" he snarled in Jared's ear. He released the bully and gave him a hard shove. "Now get out of here!"_

_The blond-headed biker turned his attention to Terry, who was still lying on the ground. The biker offered a hand out to Terry, who accepted the man's help and was slowly lifted up. The world spun around him as he tried to comprehend what had just happened._

" _You alright, man?"_

_Terry nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. I'll walk it off. Uh, thanks for the help."_

" _I hate bullies," he said. "but I hate that Anderson kid with a passion."_

" _You know that guy?" Terry asked surprised._

" _He tried to join The Lost a week ago. We laughed in his face and ran him off."_

" _You're in with The Lost? How do you join?" Terry asked enthusiastically._

_The biker laughed and said, "Kid, don't even think about it. The Lost isn't for everyone and neither is the outlaw life that comes with it. Stick to the farm and you'll be fine."_

_Disappointment was an understatement as to what he was feeling at that moment. He knew he wasn't much in a fight now, but someday, he was going to prove himself to The Lost._

" _You don't even have a motorcycle, do you?" The biker asked._

" _No, but I plan on gettin' one!"_

_He laughed again. "Gonna be hard to pull a horse trailer with a bike, don't ya think?"_

_Terry scowled. "I ain't gonna be a farmer forever! As soon as I turn eighteen, I'm outta here!"_

_The older teen wanted to say something else but quickly changed his mind. Terry studied the patches or the lack of them on the man's vest and saw a prospect patch on the left side of his chest._

" _What's a prospect?" Terry asked._

_The biker's somewhat friendly demeanor changed into a defensive one. "That's on a need to know basis!"_

_For a moment, he worried that this stranger was lash out at him. "Can I at least ask what your name is?"_

_The older teen seemed to hesitate for a second before replying, "It's Johnny."_

" _Hey, prospect!" an African American man barked at the blond._

_Johnny almost flinched at the senior member's tone but kept his composer. The African-American was almost as tall as Johnny. He wore a denim vest with various patches. Terry couldn't read them all but noticed that one of them was an American flag and the other a skull._

" _I gotta go," Johnny said. "See ya, kid."_

" _Yeah, thanks again."_

_Johnny nodded and walked back the senior Lost member. "Sorry, Clay, I had to check on something."_

" _You ain't supposed to leave your post! I'll let that shit slid for now, but next time I'll tell Buck what ya did!"_

_The two bikers walked away, leaving Terry alone in the parking lot. He picked up the pieces of his TrekMan and the smashed Bob Seger tape. Brown film hung out like entrails, reminding him of the time he and his father skinned a deer. He sighed, knowing there wasn't any way he could fix this and wished he had the money to buy another._

_As Terry climbed into the truck, both his father and Collin came out of the store. His worried father grabbed him by the shoulders and looked Terry over._

" _You okay, boy? That biker trash hurt you?" Allen Thorpe questioned his son._

" _No, dad, I'm okay. One of those bikers actually saved me!"_

_Allen looked at the direction of the bar and glared. "Don't trust them for a second. Come on, your Ma should be back from the doctor by now."_

_He climbed in, with Collin sitting in the middle. As he sat by the window and let the wind blow his hair, he wished for a more exciting life than this…_

* * *

**Red County, San Andreas—Present Day**

" _This_  is the building you bought for the clubhouse?" Terry asked.

Terry, Jim, and James stood outside a rundown old gas station on the outskirts of Montgomery, a small town that's population had been on the decline since the late 2000s. With a war overseas taking half the youth and the economy in shambles, the small town couldn't keep it up. Though it was trying to come back from the recession, it didn't seem like it was going to work.

"Hey, it was the best deal I could find and it's a twenty-minute drive from Cedar Creek. I figure since it's close by you'd like that," Jim said.

Terry ran his hand through his hair as he thought it over. The place had been abandoned in 2004, it's blue and white paint had slowly chipped away, revealing the gray concrete beneath it, the pumps had rusted, the windows were broken out and boarded over, and the garage door was crooked, exposing the bottom. Who knows what was in there making that place its home. It did, however, have a garage and the building was two-story, giving them plenty of room for members and a bar. The gas pumps would need to be removed, the wiring on the inside would need repairing, and there was so much more he couldn't even imagine. Overall, the place would be a giant money pit.

Jim and James pried the garage door open. The hot San Andreas sun spilled its light into the interior of the building, revealing the disheveled inside. The floor was littered with trash with a big oil spot in the middle, the wall was covered in old posters, some with motorcycles and others with scantily clad women grinding on muscle cars, car parts were shoved in one corner, and the fluorescent light was dangling by one cord. Terry could hear his wallet crying out as he looked over the mess. He would hate to see the rest of it.

"Wow, Dad, I can't believe you wasted my college money on this," James commented.

"Relax, kid, your college fund is fine," replied Jim.

"If you say so..."

The three of them stepped inside the building and surveyed the damages. Inside the store area were old magazine racks full of outdated subscriptions, the shelves were rusted with a few can goods and bags of chips that rats ate within months of the stores closing, the refrigerators were busted out and full of beverages that long since leaked out their contents, leaving a dark, syrupy puddle in the bottom of the fridge floors. Terry shined a light on the counter and cash register. The countertop bubbled from the heat, the register was left opened as if some idiot honestly thought someone had left money behind for them to grab. All the cigarettes were obviously missing.

Which reminded him…

"Cool, someone left the good magazines behind!" James said, holding up a pornographic magazine.

He opened it to the middle, allowing the center fold to come tumbling out. The adolescent boy grinned enthusiastically at the naked model before him. The older men shook their heads, remembering a time when they themselves would lose their minds over a pair of bare breasts.

 _Thank god I'm old and can control myself better._  Terry thought.  _Then again, I didn't have much control when it came to Danielle._  He thought about how sweet she tasted even after all the whiskey she drank and how soft her bare skin was. He couldn't wait for Friday night.

"Okay, kid, you don't need any of these!" Jim said, snatching the magazine away from his son.

"Ah, come on, Dad!"

"No! What if your brother and sister saw this?"

"They won't!" James argued.

"But they might. No."

" _Fiiiine_."

The battle was over, but not the war. There would be another time when Jim and James would fight over something, but for now, Jim was victorious.

The rest of the morning was spent hauling out the shelves and other items that weren't needed. They tossed out the old food and other garbage before storing what could be useful away in the back closet. Jim swept the garage and James mopped behind him. Terry found another door and thought it was a storage room until he opened it and discovered it to be one that led upstairs to the second floor.

He made his way up the stairs and opened the door to the top floor. Inside he was greeted by an empty living-room. The only pieces of furniture were a busted couch and an old box TV lying on its side with screen broken. A few bills lay scattered across the floor. Terry picked one of them up out of curiosity and looked it over. Evelyn and Keith Smith were printed on the water bill with "past due" stamped in big, red letters. He tossed the envelope on the couch and continued into the kitchen. It was stained yellow from years of grease build-up and possibly cigarette smoke. The appliances were out of date, from the stove to the fridge. In his poor judgment, he opened the fridge. Despite the fact that it was empty, it reeked of rotten meat and he quickly shut it. As he turned to leave, he tripped, almost falling on a broken chair. He grumbled a curse, kicking the chair aside.

The bedrooms were just as empty as the rest of the house, except for the master bedroom. There he found a lone dresser with one drawer open. He reached inside, half expecting a rat to bite him, but instead, he found a lone Polaroid of a man, woman, and their young son. He walked over to the only intact window for better lighting and studied the photograph.

Looking at it brought back memories of his own childhood and he couldn't understand why. While he continued to keep in contact with his father and twin sisters and occasionally visited them, his hometown and the memories he shared with his siblings felt like a lifetime ago. Once upon a time, Terry couldn't wait to leave his parents farm and live his own life, but sometimes in the dead of night, he often wished for the carefree days of childhood. Before Collin became a heroin addict, before his mother withered away from her heart condition, and before his relationship with his father fizzled.

_Jesus, wouldn't Mom be proud of the way her sons turned out_

At least his sisters were successful. Both career driven, both married to equally successful men, had houses in the suburbs, with two point five children. Hell, his niece was graduating college this year with all honors. And here he was, a middle-aged weapons dealer, trying to rebuild a dead motorcycle club. At least they were all happy.

As quickly as the nostalgia came over him, he shook it off and tossed the photo out the window. Sentiments were for fools and the weak and he didn't have time for either of that shit.

After giving the second floor another once over, he left without looking back. Move forward, leave it all behind. It was all for the best.

Halfway down the stairs, Terry hears Jim yell at someone outside. He touched the handle of his pistol, ready to use it if necessary. Rushing down the stairs and outside where he saw a tall Latino man wearing a plain leather jacket and sitting on a red and white Hexer. Seeing the bike briefly reminded him of Johnny.

"Ah, there you are," the stranger said. "You're Terry Thorpe, I'm guessing. I'm Ash Morales, former Road Captain of the Los Santos chapter."

"Why the fuck should I believe you?" Terry said.

"Because if you want to help three… two brothers and a sister, you should listen to me."

"Wait," Jim said, interjecting. "weren't you one of the guys that survived the Los Santos assault?"

Ash nodded. "I am. After that, I had enough and walked away from the Lost. I'm too old for this shit but there are some kids who are in some real trouble if you don't help them. If you're looking for loyal brothers, those three are the ones you'll need."

This guy who Terry never met before suddenly shows up out of nowhere and expects them to believe him. Too many times in the past Terry and his brothers were screwed over by someone they worked for. Too many times it was a brother that stabbed them in the back. It was safe to say that the former Sargent-in-Arms had trust issues because of this. This guy could be working for the Devil's Mark for all Terry knew, but there was something in the man's eyes that told him, Ash wasn't lying. He worried he'd regret this and decided to take the risk.

"Okay, who are these guys and where do I find them?"

* * *

They were on the run.

After the Devil's Mark slaughtered the Los Santos chapter, the Devils decided it was open season on the survivors. None of them understood why; the Devils got what they wanted. No one heard from Ash in days and Justin was beginning to worry. Reggie, on the other hand, told them he didn't give a fuck what happened to Ash. Both Justin and Rachelle knew that the Irishmen didn't mean it, but they kept their mouths shut.

Stuck in a grungy motel room in Blueberry, the trio had nothing better to do than watch TV, drink, smoke, or sleep. Their food was starting to run low, but at least there was plenty of water. The boys sat on one of the twin bed and played cards while Rachelle was on the other side, reading a trashy romance novel she found on the nightstand. Reggie glanced her way wondering how in the shit a nice, college-bound girl like her would want to pal around with idiots like him and Justin. Meek and soft-spoken, he didn't expect her to last long, but to his surprise, she'd proven that she was worthy to ride with the Lost MC. So far she was the only one who'd stay calm during this ordeal and it was her that didn't want to leave town, she wanted to stay and fight.

"Got any fours?" Justin asked.

Reggie looked his cards over and said, "Nope."

"Liar."

"I ain't lying, boyo," Reggie said.

"Yeah, sure." he tossed his cards down and sighed. "Man, I'm bored. Let's find something to do."

"Like what? There ain't much except work out VHS tapes from the 80s."

"Yeah, well..." Justin trailed off.

Reggie let out a growl and jumped off the bed. "Goddamn it!" His outburst had startled Rachelle. "Fuck! This is fucking bullshit! I was practically born into the Lost! I was raised to believe that the brothers come first and you'd do anything for them, but where are they now when we need them the most? Huh? Fucking where!"

"Dude, keep your voice down," Justin chided.

By now, Reggie was pacing like a wild animal. Justin and Rachelle both sympathized with him but they also knew simply getting mad about it wasn't going to solve anything. They had to come together to figure out a plan or else they'd die here holed up in this dirty motel.

"What's the fucking point? Ash was right, the Lost is gone. Wouldn't my old man be proud to see the Lost now? Shit, he kept saying Johnny K wasn't worth a shit, that Billy had it right all along, but he stayed loyal because that's what brothers do!" Reggie fell back onto the bed. "We gotta do something."

"I'll figure something out," Justin said. "Just give me a little more time and I'll figure it out."

Rachelle set her book aside and got off the bed to sit beside him. She half expected him to move away from her, but instead, he stayed where he was.

"We'll make it," Rachelle said.

Just as the atmosphere was beginning to calm, a knock on the door sent all three into a panic. The Lost members aimed their guns at the door, ready to open fire if they needed to. Justin silently ordered them to lower their weapons and take cover while Justin slowly crept towards the door. The rapid knocks sounded again, but Justin remained quiet. With his pistol behind his back, he slowly opened the door. He barely got a peek at who was on the other side when the person on the other side pushed the door the rest of the way. Justin was knocked back as a tall, man with dark blonde hair strolled into the room. Sunlight the three were hiding from spilled into the room making the trio flinch away.

The youngest of the three lowered her gun the moment she recognized the man as Terry Thorpe, one of the original Lost members. Seconds later the other two realized who he was. Confusion and relief swept over the younger members. He looked all three over before walking back over to the door and shutting it. He snapped on the ceiling light and took a seat in the corner of the room.

An orange flame briefly flickered as Terry lit up a cigarette. He took a long drag and blew the smoke into the air.

"I heard you three were in trouble. Mind fillin' me in on what's going on?"

Justin sat down on one of the twin beds across from him. Since the others were too stunned to speak Just went first.

"Well… I don't even know where to start."

**Author's Note:**

> I know this chapter is really short, but I promise the next one will be a bit longer.


End file.
